Rules of Engagement
by Katie Havok
Summary: "My book, as promised." There's pride in his voice, as well as a touch of hesitation. He catches her eye. "That's the very first copy printed. I made sure of it. My mother and brother received the second and third copies, respectively. They are...unaware of this fact. Mother thinks she has the first, Theseus the second." [First in "The Journey Itself Is Home" series.]
1. Chapter 1

_**July 1927**_

Tina spots him first and is unable to contain an ecstatic smile. She raises a hand to her face, feeling her grin as though it were an unfamiliar item of clothing while surrendering herself to joy. She clasps her hands and vibrates with impatience while she awaits him, shifting restlessly from foot to foot.

Newt allows the crowds to disperse before ambling down the gangplank, familiar battered case in hand. He raises his fingers in greeting when he spots her, before queuing in the line for customs. He makes it through quickly enough, avoiding the agent's eyes the entire time, and before long his familiar duck-footed walk has brought him to her, where he smiles at her shoes in greeting.

"Tina. Hello," he says, and his smoky voice curls tendrils of warmth around her heart. He lifts his head and his gaze is green-gold and wide and all for her. His smile unfurls, slow and sure as Tina's eyes prick with delight.

"You're back," she manages. He nods jerkily, eyes drinking in her features. He stares for a moment longer before dropping into a squat and laying his case flat. Tina watches him open it, spotting pajamas, a flurry of maps, his battered alarm clock, a pearl-handled straight razor and badger brush—and a discrete brown rectangle, wrapped carefully with twine. He lifts it reverently and locks his case before passing it to her.

"My book, as promised" There's pride in his voice, as well as a touch of hesitation. He catches her eye. "That's the very first copy printed. I made sure of it. My mother and brother received the second and third copies, respectively. They are...unaware of this fact. Mother thinks she has the first, Theseus the second." He smirks. "Someday, perhaps I'll tell them the truth."

Tina laughs while holding the book against her chest, holding it tightly. "Thank you, Newt."

Newt ducks his head and shifts from foot to foot, restless fingers clenching at his side. He watches her carefully from the corner of his eye and doesn't say anything. Tina looks around, finding the sudden silence uncomfortably familiar, and finally, settles on the one thing she knows will bring him out of his shell.

"Are you hungry?" He nods without hesitation. Tina tucks the book under her arm and smiles at him. "C'mon, let's go have something to eat. You must be tired of ship food."

He smiles slightly and gathers his case, tucking his other hand into his pocket. He follows her away from the port, and if their arms brush occasionally, or their eyes meet for a heated second, neither of them comments on it.

* * *

"It's not the food that's the problem," Newt explains as they push through the Manhattan crowds. "It's the fact that I suffer from ghastly bouts of seasickness. I inevitably lose weight with every long voyage, and I've yet to find a potion or curative that eliminates the problem." Tina frowns while sidestepping a couple that stops directly in front of them, narrowly avoiding a collision. Newt, despite his distracted air, avoids the obstacle neatly and seemingly without thought.

"There's gotta be _something_ that works," Tina argues, pitching her voice low in the crowd of No-Majs. "A potion or a charm?" She shares a dubious look with him until he grimaces and looks away.

"Nothing. I've even resorted to trying Muggle methods. They work little better. The best I've found is a leaf I discovered in Greece, but chewing it has the unfortunate side-effect of making me feel rather disconnected from reality, and I can't effectively take care of my creatures that way. So I suffer for their sake."

Tina touches his arm and he stops, looking at her in confusion. She juts her chin toward the busy road. "Didn't want you to get hit by a car." There's a small smile playing around her mouth and eyes. She takes his arm and drags him across the broad avenue, stepping through traffic with practiced ease. Newt follows bemusedly, reminded acutely of the first time they'd met until she stops at her preferred kosher hot dog vendor and grins at him conspiratorially.

"It's not a New York experience unless you've had a wiener," she confides, and orders two with extra mustard, not bothering to consult him on the issue. She also requests two bottles of Coca-Cola, dropping her change into the tip cup. She passes his food over before tucking into her own with relish. Newt eats slowly—the food tastes little better than gutter leavings but he's learned, through the years, to adopt to obscure cultural phenomenon.

Tina pockets her trash, and when Newt steps aside to drink deeply from his green glass bottle, she watches his throat work above the crisp edge of his collar. Mouth suddenly dry, she wrenches her eyes away to gulp her own beverage.

He looks at her strangely when he's finished, eyebrows hoisted, and Tina realizes she's staring. Flustered, she drops her eyes while mumbling about mustard on his lip. He wipes it away before they continue on, the remainder of their journey shrouded in awkward silence.

* * *

Queenie greets them at the door with typical enthusiasm, wrapping Newt in a powder-scented embrace he doesn't bother trying to evade, and giggling at whatever stray thoughts she plucks from their heads. She urges them to sit while lighting candles, filling the small room with a soft, flickering glow. Queenie flits around to prepare a meal, chatting lightly while they shed their shoes and outer layers.

Tina is somewhat ashamed of her lack of appetite but Newt tucks in with enthusiasm. She notes that he favors the vegetables and starches, eating only enough meat to be polite. He's a steady eater, fussily _polite_ about the entire thing, and Queenie sometimes looks at him and giggles. He either doesn't notice or chooses not to comment on it.

"So, Mr. Scamander," she says as Tina uses her wand to clean up the meal. "Now that you're back, my sister can stop moping around." Queenie directs a delicate lemon pound cake to the table and places a large slice in front of Newt. "She missed ya terribly, ya know." She giggles and dodges a napkin Tina sends flying her way, smirking happily. "I know you brought your book. Has Teenie opened it yet?"

Newt swivels his head to look at Tina until she drops her eyes. "It's on the table by the door," she mumbles. Queenie directs an _Accio_ toward it. She sets it by Tina's chair with a playfully raised eyebrow as they tuck into their dessert, allowing the issue to rest for now.

"Well, c'mon Teenie—I'm dying to see it!" Queenie enthuses after they've finished, face split into a radiant smile. Tina and Newt share an amused glance. Tina lifts the book carefully, and her fingers tremble slightly as she loosens the twine and delicately peels back the brown paper. Newt watches her face nervously, one tense hand clutching a fork. Queenie makes a delighted sound when the book is revealed, and Tina lifts it with breathless reverence.

FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM, the title announces in fine gold-foil lettering, bright against a midnight blue, pebbled cover. Smaller letters proclaim that the book is written by one Newton Scamander, and the scent of fine leather fills her nose. Tina sighs shakily while flipping to the first page, where she finds the publishing information before turning to the dedication:

 _This book is for J. and Q.—may their love shine eternally; and for T., who's taught me more of friendship, bravery and selflessness than I ever thought possible._

Beneath that, in the same peacock-blue ink used in all their correspondences, is his own name, signed with a flourish.

Queenie sighs happily beside her, and Tina's hands shake as she turns the pages. The sisters watch with matching amused expressions as a flush infuses Newt's face, starting at his collar and marching upwards. He clears his throat roughly while fidgeting the fork in his hand. He finally chances a look at Queenie, who beams at him before touching his wrist.

"It's wonderful," she assures him, and he relaxes with a deep exhale. "Tina's so excited you used her title, even though she won't admit it." Queenie cuts her eyes to her sister but Tina is already immersed, eyes flickering over the page as she reads.

The blond smiled in fond exasperation before cleaning up the dessert dishes and turning the full strength of her personality onto Newt. "Come on, you're not staying at that crummy hotel. We'll set ya up here. I'll sleep on the couch, Tina can sleep in my bed and you can sleep in hers. She doesn't mind, we already talked about it before ya showed up."

She plucks the inevitable question from his head and giggles while bringing down the spare linen. "Didn't she tell ya? Jacob remembered me when I went to visit shortly after he opened his bakery. He remembers you, too, and the murtlap, and the Thunderbird—oh Newt, you should see his pastries, they're the berries! He makes little cheese nifflers and occamy pretzels, and he sells out every morning. The No-Majs' love him."

Newt's foot almost catches on the edge of a carpet at that proclamation. Queenie laughs merrily as she continues. "Here, help me with these sheets, Tina's lost in your book—yes, he remembers you. He wants to thank ya in person." She ducks her head with uncharacteristic shyness before continuing, voice pitched lower. "Tina worries. She always worries. Rappaport's law says what Jacob and I share is illegal." The smile slips from her face, and he experiences a faint pang. "Thank you for being discreet in your dedication."

Newt roughly clears his throat. He speaks as though he's picking his way from word to word, intent on not offending his hosts. "I don't agree with the laws here. I find them backward and rather churlish. If ever it should happen that you and Jacob are threatened, you always have a safe place in England. I haven't much, but I am set up with a small cottage in Dorset, which sits empty most of the year. It would make a suitable home for a young couple."

He meets her eyes to project his confidence and good intention directly into her head until she dabs at her face with a delicate lace hankie. Newt looks away while she composes herself. "You're sweet," Queenie declares with a watery sigh. "I'll tell him. Maybe a trip to England wouldn't be so bad, after all."

Then she smiles, and her eyes crinkle impishly. "Ya know, that cottage in Dorset _would_ make a nice home, and my sister would love it. You should ask her, Mr. Scamander. She wouldn't say no."

Newt blushes while watching her dress the bed with clean sheets, choosing not to dignify her implications with a response. He's careful to avoid her eyes for the rest of the evening, however, and as the sun sets and darkness draws around them, he does his best to avoid disturbing Tina, retreating into his case to tend to his creatures before accepting a snifter of brandy from Queenie.

Tina's well into his book by the time he surfaces, turning pages carefully as she absorbs the information, while Newt simply watches. It isn't until Queenie flits about in her nighty and housecoat that Tina looks up and notes the time. "Merlin's beard," she exclaims, scrambling up from the table. "Why didn't you guys say anything?"

Newt feels something warm blossom in his chest when she uses his epitaph. Queenie's sudden fit of giggles makes him realize he's projected the accompanying thought. He ignores her to instead direct a shy smile at Tina. "You looked comfortable and happy. Besides, Miss Goldstein and I handled cleaning up, didn't we?"

Queenie nods with wide-eyed innocence before deliberately plopping onto the couch, her face splitting into a yawn that fools no one. "Oh Morrigan, but I am tired. You two should scat, I need my beauty sleep." She waves an imperious arm but Newt catches the edge of a well-hidden smirk. He somehow refrains from rolling his eyes, but just only.

"Oh. Uh. Pajamas." Tina says presently, blinking at the sudden directional change of their conversation before trotting into the room she shares with her sister. She pulls out her sensible blue night clothes and a light robe before nearly colliding with Newt when she turns, finding him almost directly behind her. He holds up his hands in a non-threatening manner while taking a hasty step back.

"So sorry! Sorry. Um, I can go sleep in my case, if you prefer. I've got a cot down there. I truly don't mind." He shifts, his eyes darting to the twin beds. Then he steels himself and meets her eyes. "Or I can stay here. Erm, with you. I don't mind that, either." His voice drops as he speaks, doing something strange to Tina's insides. She finds herself nodding rather idiotically long after he's fallen quiet.

"Stay. Please stay. Um, I'm going down the hall to change, you...you can use this room to put on your pajamas, just, uh, close the door. I'll knock before I come...in." She doesn't give him a chance to respond before hurrying away. Newt watches her leave with faint amusement before closing the door to shed his many layers.

He sets Pickett into his hair while he pulls on his preferred brown-and-blue striped pajamas. The bowtruckle chirrups at him happily before nesting down on his head. Newt looks down at himself with a critical eye—mismatched, poorly-mended wool socks, faded pajamas and wild hair with a creature tangled into it—and sighs ruefully. Then a tentative knock sounds at the door, and he has to take a few even breaths before he can cross the room.

"Newt! Are you decent?"

"I'm always decent," he mumbles without thinking. She looks at him with distinct amusement when he slides back the door. Newt watches her from over the threshold, and Tina stares steadily back as they grow serious and quiet at the frank perusal, cataloging and noting their new vulnerability. Then he steps aside and the spell is broken, gesturing her into the room with an odd little half-bow. She smiles at Pickett before climbing into her sister's bed.

They settle quickly, and the sheets have only just stopped rustling when she asks hesitantly, "Do you mind if I read? I'm used to later hours and I'm not very tired yet."

Newt shakes his head while answering around a yawn. "Not at all. I'll be asleep soon either way. I warn you, though, that I snore. A parting gift from the war—I took a knock to the face, and even though we healed my nose, it set crookedly. I've never gotten around to fixing it."

Tina sets her wand to glowing, bright enough to read but low enough to not bother him. She settles back with her book as he shifts and kicks off the blankets. He casts a cooling charm over the space while closing his eyes. "Well. Goodnight, Tina. Sweet dreams."

She responds absently in kind, attention already turning to her book. The sheets rustle as he sighs and settles, and next time she glances up from the page she finds him deeply asleep, head crooked on the pillow, hands folded over his stomach with his mouth slightly parted. He _does_ snore but she can barely hear it, and the sound is gentle and peaceful and curiously endearing besides her.

She reads until she drowses and the precious book wavers before her eyes. Then she sets it aside and douses the light, turning over to watch him in repose until sleep claims her.


	2. Chapter 2

_**September 1927**_

Newt has been exceptionally fidgety and nervous all day, causing Tina untold amounts of distraction. Two months together had worn him down enough to distance him from his typical awkwardness and bring about a state of easy familiarity. Now, on the cusp of leaving, it's like those first tentative days all over again.

Tina sets her paperwork aside to bury her head in her hands, patience wearing thin. He notices her frustration and goes uncomfortably still.

"Newt," she says slowly. "You've been scratching the same spot for ten straight minutes. You aren't doing any revisions because you've been staring at the wall. Pickett can't even stand to be near you and went back into the case." She takes a deep breath, holds it, and releases it with a long exhale. "Will you _please_ tell me what bothering you?"

He shifts guiltily, cheeks infusing with color before gathering his items. "Sorry to have disturbed you, Tina. I'll, er...go down into my case."

Tina makes a frustrated sound before striding across the room in two steps, moving boldly into his space while reaching for his hand. He freezes for the second time, eyes riveted to where she holds him. Newt swallows audibly when Tina rolls her eyes in exasperation.

"It's been two months. You've held my elbow and we've held hands while walking through the park, and you're going to get squirrelly about it _now_? Mercy Lewis, Newt!"

Newt jerks his head to the side while taking measured breaths. He seems calmer after a short time and tightens his grip on her hand while rotating his upper body to face her properly. Tina smiles tentatively, and he relaxes even further.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't mean to," he says finally. Tina hears the rasp of stubble as calloused fingers rub his jaw. She watches him as he thinks, emotions drifting over his features like clouds before the words are jerked out of him.

"I want to come back and see you," he admits, and can't quite meet her eyes. He focuses somewhere around her shoulder instead. "But I haven't a pretext. I find myself wondering if I need one, or if you'll let me visit on m-merit alone." He finally looks at her, wide eyes an ocean of blue-green. Tina allows the tremulous smile that tugs at her lips as he stares. She takes his other hand, winding their fingers together reassuringly until he blinks down at them when she runs a soothing thumb over his knuckles.

"You can come whenever you want, Newt. You don't _need_ a reason. I'm always happy to see you." Newt releases a pent up breath while brushing her cheek with rough knuckles. He tucks her hair back, much like he had all those months ago, and the magnitude of Tina's smile increases. "You're my dearest friend, I'm always happy to see you."

The smile drops from his face as tension infuses his frame. He lowers his head and steps away, deftly avoiding her eyes. "iFriends/i. Yes. Of course." He turns toward the case while mumbling about the Occamy nest and Dougal. Alarmed, Tina scrambles to catch up to him, grabbing hold of his shoulder to force him to stop. Tina tugs gently until he turns to her, face turned away. She crouches to catch his eyes, desperate to read what's hidden there.

"What did I say?" she asks urgently, desperate to remove the devastated look on his face. She touches his hair and he goes preternaturally still, eyes wide as she leans close enough to feel the ragged puff of his breathing. "We are friends, aren't we?" He swallows loudly, and Tina nods. "Yes, we are. So what did I _say_? What hurt you?"

Tina squares her stance and straightens her shoulders when he makes no move to answer, willing to wait all day if necessary. His eyes dart from her face to her arms, before rolling up to where she holds him. He voices a frustrated sigh that ends with a growl, and his eyes are flinty when they meet hers. "Is this how you want to hear it?" he asks, and there's an edge of steel in his tone.

Tina steps back, folding her arms over her chest. She tilts her chin in challenge when Newt firms his jaw and keeps his gaze level. "Fine. Tell me like this," she says in an even voice, and Newt rises to meet her halfway, allowing his frustration to bleed into the words while his eyes bore into her.

"I don't want to come back as a _friend,_ " he says with forced levity, fingers curling in frustration. "My affections for you are far deeper than that. I wish to come back and see you as a man comes to see a woman: with the intent and purpose of perhaps, someday, forming a mutually-acceptable pair bond."

He snaps a measured breath out of the air before squeezing his eyes shut. Tina watches, mouth hanging open when his posture wilts as much of the fight drains out of him. "I will be your friend if that is what you require, Tina, but I feel that there is the potential between us for something far greater than that." He opens his eyes, and they do not flinch when they meet hers. "And I believe you feel it, too."

Tina looks away and swallows, feeling suddenly barbaric. "I do," she admits around the lump in her throat. She allows her arms to fall to her sides, unwilling to meet his eyes and the recrimination she imagines resides in them. "I'm sorry, I truly am, because I _do_ know that." She winces and begins to turn away. "I know this isn't how you wanted this to happen, I'll just—"

Strong but gentle fingers wrap around her wrist, effectively halting her movements. "No, Tina. Don't walk away from me. Not now." Newt brushes his thumb gently over her skin and Tina shivers. His other hand lands on her shoulder and hold firm. Now it's his turn to crouch to meet her gaze, smiling in his gentle way. Her eyes, he notes, are inky pools in the light streaming through the window, wide and dark and beautiful.

"My Newt," she murmurs and lifts a hand to cup his cheek. He presses into it with a happy sound. She feels the prick of his stubble against her skin, the sharp ridge of his jaw. Tina wonders how it would feel against her mouth, and represses a shiver.

"Your Newt," he confirms. He leans into her hand more firmly before turning his head and brushing her palm with his lips. "My Tina," he says, and his eyes positively dance. "You understand my intentions, then?" The tickle of his mouth causes the flesh covering her hand and arm to hump into goosebumps. Tina wrenches her mind back to the conversation, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

"Yes," she says simply, and he smiles. "But there are things we should discuss first."

He nods and guides her to the couch, where he hastily shoves aside his parchment and quills to make room. He settles her before striding over to the stove and making tea—the No-Maj way, without a single lick of magic. It allows her time to calm herself, which she suspects may have been the entire point, and to work through the tangle of her thoughts.

Newt settles beside her armed with teacups and biscuits, which he passes to her without comment. She nibbles on raspberry cream wafers as he sips his tea, and she carefully ignores the way his cup rattles gently in its saucer. Newt eventually clears his throat and sets his drink down, turning to her with a politely questioning look.

Tina casts about for the right way to begin, before finally going straight to the heart of the issue. "Scamander—where is that from?"

Newt blinks around a frown, one hand rising to scratch behind his ear. "Er—it's Greek, I believe."

Tina nods while nibbling her wafer. "Newt...you know I'm Jewish, don't you?"

Newt looks at her thoughtfully. Tina lets him digest this before continuing. "When I was growing up, we observed certain things, but others were allowed to fall away in favor of being modern. After my parents died, Queenie and I became wards of the state before moving to Ilvermorny. They did their best, and we did _ours_ , but I never did learn or absorb as much as I wanted. We keep these traditions alive now, as best we can, to honor Ma and Pa and our culture."

Tina takes a deep breath, remembering joyful childhood celebrations, along with the endlessly gray time after the death of her parents. Newt touches her wrist with the tip of his finger, drawing patternless shapes into her skin until Tina finds the resolve to continue.

"I never thought much about marriage, but I always assumed I would marry a Jewish man. Generally, we aren't allowed to marry a _goy_ —someone who isn't Jewish—but my instincts tell me that my family would have made an exception for you, Newt. If, uh, we decide to...take that step."

Newt considers this information quietly, eyes thoughtful. "The preferred method of human pair-bonding _is_ marriage," he concedes. He looks at her, and she gets the sense that he's feeling his words out before he speaks, weighing them against his intent. "Tina, if marriage is the goal, then I will do whatever it takes to reach it. What do I need to know?"

"Well," Tina begins, "what about children?" Newt blinks. "I may not be as familiar with my culture as I'd like, but I feel that any children we have should be raised with the customs I can pass along. We'd celebrate Hanukkah and Shabbat, as Queenie and I do and have Seders on Passover. On Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we'd go to synagogue."

She hesitates at his wide, blank expression before hurrying on. "I'm sorry, I _am_ , I know it's different from what you're used to, but you should know this now before we...before you..." She twitches her hands helplessly. Newt sighs gently before lifting their hands to drop a kiss onto her knuckles. The gesture is new and unexpected, and Tina marvels.

He's smiling when she looks at him with wide eyes and quirks a brow at her confusion. "As long as you understand that I also come with my own customs. If we can agree to celebrate Christmas alongside Hanukkah, as long as you aren't opposed to teaching our brood _all_ our individual cultural facets, then I see no problem. It is my firm belief that a varied education is never a bad thing."

Tina nods happily, emboldened by his quiet confidence, and goes on. "There won't ever be pork in the house because I keep kosher, so you'll have to give up bacon. You don't eat much meat so I don't think it's really a sacrifice, but you should know. And...if we have a son, he will have a bris. I'm sorry but that's something I insist on."

Newt looks away thoughtfully, eyes going distant as he scourers his encyclopedic brain for everything he knows on the subject. "Is that..." he asks hesitantly, and he makes an odd little snipping gesture with two fingers. Tina stares before dissolving into giggles. He endures them stoically before moving on. "It _is_. Right. Um, I suppose if it's necessary, then I can raise no reasonable argument." He blanches without warning, and Tina can read the question on his face. She laughs harder, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"No," she gasps, pressing the stitch in her side. Newt watches with faint amusement until the last of her laughter gallops away and she can fetch a few grateful breaths. "No," she continues calmly. "You don't have to...do that. Just be aware that it will...it's something I have to work out on my own." Newt considers this as a thoughtful but comfortable silence falls between them.

"Is there anything else?" he asks eventually. Tina's been hypnotized by the feel of his thumb on her knuckles, and she hesitates before answering. Newt watches in fascination when crimson colors her cheeks, and her eyes fall to his lap before skipping away. The flush spreads, infusing her forehead and neck.

"The last thing is personal," she mumbles, and he wisely chooses not to move closer. Instead, he strains his ears as she dissembles to the couch. "I have stepped out with a gentleman or two, and I've allowed them to kiss me. But that's it. It never went any further than that, and neither have...neither have iI/i. I don't intend to go further with you, Newt. I will go to my husband on our wedding night without..." She flounders helplessly, words caught in her throat. Newt saves her.

"I understand," he speaks in his gentlest tones. Tina takes a deep breath and he joins her, breathing together until her skin tone returns to normal and his stilted mannerism has receded. "I would never expect it of you, besides," he reassures softly. Tina dares a shy smile. He tightens his hold on her hand as his eyes smile back—strong and bright, with no hint of awkwardness.

"Is that everything?" Newt asks, and Tina nods. His mouth softens as he brushes his lips over her knuckles. "So, you wish to raise your future children with your customs. You cannot eat pork because it is anathema in your culture, which means I will also give it up. You have female mysteries that I can only know after marriage—ah, sorry, that came out _entirely_ wrong," he winces and drops his gaze to his feet while Tina grins at him affectionately. He hurries on, "and you wish for any male offspring to observe a bris, to strengthen your cultural norms."

Tina nods. "Yes. That's pretty much everything. I'm sure I'll think of more as we go along, but for now, that's the basics of what you need to know." She swallows nervously. "If you can accept all that, Newt, then I would be delighted and honored if you would come visit me, whenever you can. As a man likes to visit a woman." She squeezes his hands as Newt stares at her, transfixed.

His smile, when it happens, is a slow, tremulous thing. It transforms his face into something joyous and almost childlike as Tina watches it light him from within. He finds her eyes, all traces of hesitancy gone. "Tina," he breathes. "Allow me to ask formally: may I come back, after I've fulfilled my duty to the Ministry, and see you? May I come bringing only myself, and with the intention of perhaps someday being more to you than simply 'Newt'?"

Tina nods, and his eyes soften as he drinks in her face. "You're _my_ Newt but...yes," she says plainly, and she can't contain her ecstatic smile. "Yes, Newt. Come whenever you want, as often as you want."

"I will," he sighs shakily, and it isn't only joy that makes his eyes shine now. Tina thumbs his tears away, and he presses into her touch gratefully. "My Tina," he husks, and when he kisses her wrist, she doesn't turn him away.

"Your Tina," she confirms, and they sit together in quiet wonder until darkness falls around them.

* * *

Tina sees him off two days later.

Newt stands before her awkwardly, clutching his case and watching her from the corner of his eye. He seems unable to formulate a parting statement, Tina doesn't hold this against him; she can't think of one herself. Then the ship's horn blows a 10-minute warning and Newt flinches before craning his head over his shoulder.

"I should—" he begins, and then his case clatters to the ground as he grips her hands, nearly hard enough to ache. " _I don't know what to say_ ," he breathes in a rush, his eyes intent on her. "I don't have a frame of reference for this." He searches her face while his fingers relax until he lifts her hands to his mouth to lather her palms with kisses. "I shall write every week," he promises. Tina smiles around the tears blurring her vision. "And I shall return in three months. Sooner, if I can manage it."

Tina moves closer, stepping into his space until her toes touch the case at his feet. She hesitates only a moment before leaning forward and wrapping her arms around him, pulling him into a close embrace. He sighs deeply while pressing his face into the crook of her neck, and she can feel his labored breathing. "Three months," she confirms, and his arms tighten convulsively. She inhales his constant scent of wool and parchment and sunshine, committing it all to the memory of her heart before squeezing him one last time and stepping back. His hands, she's pleased to note, do not leave hers.

"Three months," Newt repeats, and his smile strives to be reassuring. He squeezes her hands one last time before releasing them, bending to scoop up his case and striding away. He doesn't look back. She watches him hesitate on the gangplank, head tipped back while blinking hard at the sky. Then he squares his shoulders and the ship swallows him. Tina is left feeling bereft and empty, and unfathomably alone.

It's a long, lonely walk back to her apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

_**December 1928**_

Tina hears the tell-tale pop in the hallway and disentangles herself from an enthusiastically dancing Baker to head toward the door. Queenie steps in smoothly to fill the gap, and Jacob beams at her.

She swings open the door before he gets the chance to knock, fist left hovering awkwardly in the air. Tina joyfully takes his hand and pulls him into the apartment, and Newt's face softens as she helps him shed his outer layers. There are snowflakes caught in his eyelashes and peppering his cheek, a sharp contrast to the smattering of freckles there, and she is helpless but to lean forward and kiss them away. He holds his breath until she retreats, her smile radiant.

"Hello, love," he says in greeting, pulling her close by dint of his school scarf, which is wound familiarly around her neck. Tina presses close, inhaling the scents of wintry earth and parchment and snow that clings to him, and kisses his cheek. His stubble is rough against her lips, and she feels him gasp when she presses her lips into the hinge of his jaw. There's a new warmth in his gaze when she leans away, and Tina has to make a conscious effort to break eye contact.

Jacob has Queenie wrapped in his arms, swinging her around the room enthusiastically. He disengages while Newt hangs his coats and loosens his tie, before ambling over to pull the other man into a hug intended to crack bone. "Newt, buddy, how are ya?" he enthuses, and Newt sounds rather breathless when he replies. They shake hands and fall into the easy talk of their respective careers, Newt's hands animatedly retelling some adventure or another.

Queenie pulls Tina aside, allowing their men privacy to converse. "I'm going to Jacob's tonight," she murmurs. Tina nods with resignation. Queenie wraps her in a floral embrace, and the elder sister sighs while hugging her back.

"You know how much I worry," Tina frets. Queenie's strawberry head bobs in her peripheral vision.

"You don't need to worry, though," she reassures Tina, wrinkling her nose delicately. "You heard what Newt said. We always have a safe place to go." Queenie looks over at their men, each nursing a glass of Jacob's wassel, and sighs happily. "Newt loves ya, you know. He couldn't stop thinking of you the entire time he was gone."

Tina sighs. "Please don't read his mind, you know he doesn't like it."

Queenie shrugs, unconcerned. "He doesn't hate it so much." Newt turns away from Jacob, eyes honing in on Tina and warming before turning back to his companion. Tina ducks her head to hide a blush as her sister smiles impishly. "He does. I know you see it, I know he feels it, and I know you both want it. You can be _happy,_ Teenie. Please don't take it for granted."

Tina suppresses a pang of guilt while tightening her hold on her sister. "I'm sorry," she murmurs as Queenie hiccups into her shoulder. "I _am_ sorry. You know if I could change the law, I would."

"He's going to ask me to marry him," Queenie whispers. Tina freezes. "And I'm going to say yes. Even if it means I have to snap my wand and walk away from magic forever." Her lips tremble when she meets Tina's gaze, but her eyes are defiant and sure. "It's not right. You know it's not right."

Tina shushes her. "Don't tell me anything else. Say yes if you have to, do whatever you need to be happy, but don't tell me because I can't support the guilt."

Queenie chokes out a laugh. "I'm glad you approve, Tina. He'll make me happy, and I'll give him the family he's always wanted. He has enough money saved so we can drop everything and leave if we have to. It'll all be okay, you'll see."

Tina nods, wanting desperately to believe her and so choosing to do so. By the time their men come to fetch them and cajole them into dancing, all traces of tears are gone from their faces, and they even manage wan smiles.

* * *

Queenie and Jacob leave shortly after supper.

Newt presses a small, cheerfully wrapped gift into each of their hands before accepting Queenie's kiss and Jacob's firm embrace. He sees them out and there's an air of relief about him when they are gone, leaving he and Tina blessedly alone. She crosses the room to put her arms around his shoulders, and before long he's pinned against the door as she presses warm, open-mouthed kisses to the stubble on his jaw and cheek.

"I've missed you," she breathes into his skin. He smiles faintly and ducks his head. Tina lays a finger beneath the shelf of his chin to raise his eyes to hers. "Don't hide from me," she admonishes as he blinks at her mildly.

"So sorry, Tina," Newt murmurs before pulling her close and dropping a kiss into her hair. "I'm still not used to all of...all of _this._ It's an adjustment."

She chuckles and presses her face into his chest, inhaling his scent. "Then you shouldn't have left for two months just before the holidays. We didn't think you'd make it back before New Years."

"Does this mean you don't have a gift for me?" He pouts playfully while Tina gasps in mock outrage. She swats him gently before pulling him over to the couch to settle him in with another glass of wassail, this one generously spiked with brandy. He hums happily as he sips, and his eyes glow when he turns toward her. "Thank you."

Tina curls at his side and tucks her feet beneath his legs. He slings his arm her shoulder as they watch the lowering dark through the heavy fall of snow, sipping their beverages and sometimes just _looking_ at each other. She presses close and he makes a rumbling sound in his chest, one suspiciously resembles a purr. Smiling gently, she lifts her hand to rub his scalp. Newt really _does_ purr then, radiating warmth and contentment like a large, peaceful cat.

"We've forgotten the gifts," he mumbles eventually. His eyes are heavy-lidded when she turns to look at him, and he smiles at her lazily. Tina leans forward until their noses touch, eyes fixed to his lips while Newt watches her with sleepy feline intensity.

"We've never really kissed," she muses aloud. He comes awake all at once, blinking wide eyes at her. "I've kissed your jaw and cheek, and you've kissed my hands and my wrists. But we've never kissed like men and women do. Why is that?"

Newt watches her carefully before draining the remains of his wassail in one drought. He looks at the empty glass mournfully before setting it aside. "I believe it's because a certain woman declared, in no uncertain terms, that she had no wish to do such things with me." His tone aims for flippancy but fails, falling instead into flat dismissal. He winces and reaches for his glass to run uncertain fingers around the rim.

Tina stills his hands to speak into his lap. "I'm sorry. I did say that, didn't I?" Newt nods, and Tina looks thoughtful. "Is it strange, that we haven't kissed? It's been over a year."

Newt shrugs one shoulder, warming to the subject. "There's an inherent sexuality in kissing another person on the mouth, Tina. It speaks of a certain level of trust and a willingness to share intimacies. There's no timetable for reaching that point, I don't think. I've never pursued a woman outside of you, so I've never really given it much thought. I suppose I figured that you'd come to me, if and when you were ready."

"You were waiting for me?" Tina asks tonelessly, and Newt nods carefully. He watches as Tina's face transfigures, shifting into an elated expression that steals his breath. "You _were_ waiting for me," she breathes, and her smile is bright enough to light the room.

Something warm fills his chest. He absently lifts his hand to rub the skin over his heart, which suddenly feels three sizes too large for the space it occupies. Tina leans forward until their foreheads touch, and he can smell citrus and brandy on her breath.

"Would you kiss me now, if I asked you to?" Tina wonders. He has to swallow twice before he can answer.

"Yes," he murmurs and clutches the couch cushions to keep from floating away.

"Then kiss me," she breathes and closes her eyes while swaying close. Newt leans forward to meet her halfway.

Her lips are softer than the skin on her wrists, exquisitely sculpted and firm and a perfect fit against his own. They slant their mouths together to move in harmony, sharing air, heat and the essence of their souls. Newt finds she tastes much like she smells, sweet, slightly tangy and with a distinct undercurrent of alcohol.

Her lips part on a captive sigh and he daringly deepen the kiss, until the wet velvet of her tongue tentatively rises to meet his. He suckles the muscle into his mouth, groaning happily, and she permits it while her nails dig into his skin.

Then it's over, and she's leaning back to stare at him, lips swollen and eyes hooded and hair sensually mussed. He can't resist reaching out to touch so he does, the calloused pads of his fingers glancing over her cheek, her chin, the line of her jaw. She swallows convulsively while pressing his fingers to her mouth. Newt cannot quell the fissure of possessive pride that works through him.

"Merlin's beard," she breathes, and he nods in dumb agreement. "Merlin's _beard_ ," she repeats, a little stronger, and then she falls forward to wind her arms around his neck and everything else—gifts, snow, their lengthy separation—is forgotten in the mutual give-and-take of their mouths, hot on each other.


	4. Chapter 4

_**November 1929**_

Newt returns from Australia to a somber country. Tina isn't at the docks to meet him, which is unusual, and he feels strangely untethered as he ambles to the closest alley to Disapparate away.

The troubles haven't reached the southern hemisphere yet so he used his remaining Australian funds to pack a chest with all manner of food and supplies, anticipating economic turmoil upon his return to New York. Then he'd cast his strongest stasis spells, shrunk it carefully, and tucked it into his coat pocket. His fingers ghost over it when he materializes before the Goldstein apartment, and he knocks out of simple politeness, not expecting anyone to be home this early on a weekday.

He's reaching for his key when the door is flung open, and a very disheveled Tina meets him on the berm. He rocks back a step, caught off-guard and nearly sent reeling. Then he takes in her appearance as concern fills his chest.

"Tina, are you alright?"

She rolls her eyes and flings the door open, gesturing him inside. "Do I _look_ all right to you?" she snaps. He wisely chooses not to answer that. Instead, he sets his case down and sheds his jacket. Tina watches him dispassionately, vibrating with barely-harnessed energy, and for the first time in almost a year, he finds it difficult to meet her eyes.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He keeps his voice low and soothing, subconsciously adopting the non-threatening posture which had served him so well in the field. Tina scoffs angrily but doesn't walk away, and he counts that as a small victory. She gestures to herself, feet bare and wrapped in a dressing gown, with a fierce scowl. He takes her in as things start to come into focus.

"It's noon on a Monday, and I'm _home_ ," she growls. "So what do _you_ think the problem is, Mr. Scamander?"

Newt winces internally but doesn't allow it to show. Instead, he inches closer and focuses just to the left of her face. "Did you put yourself on the line for a victim again, Tina? Or did the economic troubles affect MACUSA too?"

Tina chokes and buries her face in her hands while Newt advances another step. "Whatever it is," he murmurs gently, "You are strong and capable. You can _handle_ this."

Her shoulders shake as he lets out a long, relieved breath. Tina doesn't resist when he pulls her into his arms, her tears soaking into his jacket and the shirt beneath. "The No-Maj economy is all balled up," she manages between choked breaths. "The American wizard economy depends on _theirs,_ so when they make mistakes, we suffer even worse for it. MACUSA just eliminated half their Auror staff, based on seniority. I was only a Junior Investigator, so I was one of the first to go. Queenie still has her job, but it isn't enough to make ends meet." Her hands shake when she wipes her eyes, and Newt's heart aches. "Thanksgiving is next week, we've no money for it, and I don't feel very thankful even though I know I _should_!"

Newt presses her to his chest as she cries. When her sobs devolve into messy hiccups and she is left wrung out and trembling, he tenderly cleans her face with a wrinkled but clean handkerchief before kissing her forehead. She eventually produces a watery smile and pushes away, drifting across the kitchen in obvious embarrassment to fetch a glass of water. He lets her go while busying himself with pulling the shrunken trunk out of his pocket.

"What is that?" she asks when he sets it on the table, her curiosity getting the better of her. He taps it with his wand in lieu of answering. The table groans under the new weight while Newt throws open the lid to allow her to peek inside. Her eyes widen in disbelief, reaching to touch the supplies within.

"You'll not need to worry about eating for a while," he says, shifting from foot to foot. Tina turns her disbelieving gaze onto him. "In cities, food is typically one of the most expensive commodities. It stands to reason that inflation would cause it to quickly become near unattainable," he explains, curling his fingers nervously. "This way, all your funds can go to housing and other necessities. I'll feel much better knowing that you and your sister are properly cared for."

Tina's eyes fill with tears once more, and Newt can't contain his exasperation. He exhales through pursed lips while folding his arms across his chest. "It's not charity, so don't act as though it is. I am simply making sure that the woman I—the woman I have _intentions_ for, is fed and healthy. I would be remiss for me to allow you to suffer."

Tina shakes her head. "It's not that." She speaks to the table, hands clenched into fists. "Queenie and Jacob are engaged. She was supposed to move in with him at the end of the year, and I don't know now if she's still going to, or if she's staying here. I have no _job_ , Newt. I'm not going to be able to afford this place on my own." She threads her fingers together and slumps into herself. "And I can't ask Queenie to stay because I refuse to get in the way of her happiness."

Newt's eyes lose focus as his mind races, putting pieces together and weighing probabilities. He thinks of the parchment he received last week, and of the ring that he'd bought while in Italy, a simple band of white gold inlaid with pearlescent shell. An idea begins to form, and he's careful to keep his expression neutral when he crosses the room to Tina.

Newt wraps his arms around her from behind to drop small kisses onto the line of her shoulder until she sighs deeply and relaxes against him. "That's better," he murmurs and pulls out a chair while admonishing her to sit. "Here, love. Rest, and allow me to make you some food. Then you and I will have a little chat about our future."

* * *

Lunch turns out to be canned tomato soup and fried bologna on bread. It's simple but hearty and takes the chill out of the apartment and Tina's heart. She murmurs her thanks while Newt inclines his head before cleaning up with a few flicks of his wand. Then he reaches across the table to thread his fingers through hers, green eyes earnest upon her face.

"I had _intended_ to ask you something else entirely on this trip," he begins bluntly, and Tina goes red from her hairline to the collar of her shirt. Newt pretends not to notice. "But now I find myself in a unique position. Tina, how would you feel if I made you aware of a job opportunity? The salary is a pittance but I promise that you shall never be bored. You'll get to see new peoples and cultures, without having to worry about influencing them in any way. Best of all, you'll have the freedom to travel, and you'll be able to put your skills learned at MACUSA to good use."

Tina steeples her fingers while watching him suspiciously. He is heartened to see that the look of world-weary fatigue has left her for the time being. "What is this job?" she asks, and her narrow-eyed regard reminds him fondly of the first time they'd met when she had shoved him into a wall and demanded to know who he was. He grins broadly and unabashedly while Tina blinks in confusion.

"My research assistant," he says with relish, watching her eyes widen in understanding. "It could be perfect, Tina. No more long separations. No more exhausted owls traveling to all parts of the world, just so we can share a few words. You can be by my side as much as you want, or as little. We can have you home for the holidays. Consider it a trial run for...well, the _other_ question I had meant to ask you." He blushes while staring at his hands. "The Ministry has been pestering me to get one for some time now—the book and its revisions, it's all quite a lot to put on one man's shoulders. I've hesitated because I did not _want_ to travel with anyone else, and I can't help but see this as a fortuitous opportunity."

Tina still looks gob-smacked, so he forces himself to calm down. "Please consider it, Tina. I would like very much for you to come with me, but I understand if you have no inclination for wandering to all corners of the earth. I will respect your decision, whatever it may be."

Tina snaps her jaw shut, her eyes widening as she looks at him. "Will I be employed by you, or the Ministry of Magic?"

"The Ministry," he replies promptly. "The fact that you are an American should pose no problem."

Tina nods. "Good. That's good. What's the salary?"

"Three Sickles a week," he growls and clarifies when she looks confused. "Hardly enough to live on, really, but I assure you that many of the things we need come with me." He gestures toward his case. "It will be no trouble at all to make you a separate sleeping area, and two can eat as cheaply as one. You'll be able to put your money away, or to send it to Queenie."

"Sleeping quarters...in your case? So, we wouldn't be staying in strange rooms all the time?"

He shakes his head, warming to the subject. "Almost never. The ministry provides a stipend in certain areas, and I've always put that away for a rainy day. I usually find a quiet corner to put my case, or sometimes hide it in a cave. Occasionally, I've built a rough lean-to and stashed it under there. Then I place my strongest protective spells and wards. It's always worked well for me, and as you know, things have a habit of going pear-shaped when I'm around."

Tina utters a small bark of laughter, causing Newt to smile in unabashed relief. "That's true," she admits. "And I'm glad we won't be in hostels all the time. Okay, last question: what were you going to ask me instead?"

"Oh, I was going to ask you to—" Newt cuts himself off with a choked sound, and Tina ducks her head to giggle into her sleeve. Her dark eyes dance at him from across the table, and he has to look away while he catches his breath. He thinks of the ring he'd bought, heavily charmed against niffler theft and tucked safely away in his pocket, and wonders.

"I almost had you," Tina giggles, and stands to hug him. "Ask me when you're ready, Newt. I think you know what my answer is going to be."

Newt nods, stunned into silence as she bends to kiss him. They're both slightly breathless when they part. He stands to lead her toward the couch, intent on a conversation of an entirely different sort. "Yes, I think I do," he murmurs against her lips.

Then his mouth and hands are on her skin, and thinking becomes impossible.

* * *

They are reading together comfortably when Queenie comes home. She takes one look at Newt before beaming and pulling him into a hug. "She'll say yes," she promises him in a low voice, and her smile nearly stops his heart. "And she wants to go with you very badly. Oh Newt, you don't know how happy you've made her, just by being home and bringing her hope again."

"I wish to always see her happy," he replies with fragile honesty.

Queenie squeezes his arm. "You make her happy," she promises him with a tremulous smile. "You really, truly do." She embraces him one last time before drifting away to hug her sister. Then she digs into the chest still dominating the table to prepare them a lovely supper.

Newt sends an owl off to the Ministry after they eat, while Tina hovers anxiously and Queenie does her best to distract and reassure them both. Then there's nothing left to do but wait. Queenie absconds to Jacob's, leaving Newt and Tina alone and rather at a loss for what to do. They wind up on the couch, joined at the mouth with hands tangled in hair and clothing, before separating reluctantly and retreating to their respective beds.

It takes a week for a reply to arrive. That time is spent mostly locked away in the apartment. Tina helps Newt with his creatures and learns more than she ever thought she'd need to know about the living habits of various species. She also learns of their dietary needs, and their schedules, and quickly she realizes that he's introducing her to the things she'll need to know when they work together. Tina throws herself into it with enthusiastic joy then, and by the end of the week, she has a journal of her own making, full of notations and useful information.

The Ministry owl finally arrives at an obscenely late hour. Newt springs from his bed to untie the roll of parchment, giving the tired bird a treat and a place to perch for the night. His fingers tremble as he unfurls the missive, eyes darting rapidly over it. He reaches the bottom only to read it again, a slow, unbelieving expression infusing his face.

"Well? What does it say?" Tina asks, unable to keep the quaver from her voice. Newt's eyes are wide when they meet hers.

"They've said yes," he exclaims, and his face splits into a delighted grin. "They've already contacted MACUSA and received glowing recommendations from both Director Graves and Madam Picquery. There's a bundle making it's way over, too big for an owl—confidentiality agreements, employment clauses and the like." He swallows as his pleading, hopeful eyes search hers. His hand trembles when he reaches out to her. "Tina. This is wonderful news. Tell me you'll take the position. Please come with me."

Tina nods, feeling the prickle of tears and the unmistakable relief of a burden lifted. "Of course, Newt," she promises, and her voice is scratchy with emotion. "I'll go with you anywhere you want, anytime you want. I couldn't _not_ go."

Newt throws his arms around her in an expansive embrace, lifting her off her feet. She laughs, musical and free, as he peppers her upturned face with kisses. "Tina," he breathes. "Oh Tina, Tina, the only thing that could make me happier would be—" He freezes, and then sets her gently back on her feet. His eyes sweep over her face, reading the emotions there. Then he swallows, and Tina watches his throat work with fascination.

"The only thing that could make me _happier_ would be if you were mine entirely for our journeys." He speaks slowly, as if feeling out his words, then flicks his fingers toward the other side of the room. Something small and dark flies into his hand. Newt fetches a deep breath while looking down at it. He meets her gaze then, and Tina's breath catches in her throat. His eyes are wide and vulnerable but full of tremulous _hope_.

"I told myself I would do this when the time felt right, and right now feels perfect." Newt fetches a deep breath and lets it out slowly, obviously gathering his courage. "I know of no other woman as well suited to my quirks and eccentricities. I can think of no one else who can find it in their heart to love a nundu, or willing to learn how to delouse a demiguise. I never imagined I would fall in love, but here I am. I am yours entirely, Porpentina Goldstein, and while you have no need for a husband, I find myself longing for the job."

He flips opens the box with fumbling fingers, revealing the simple but precious ring. His voice trembles as he finishes. "Will you marry me, Tina? I am a selfish man, but I promise it would be the culmination of my life's work to ensure your happiness every day."

Tina reaches out with shaking fingers to touch the ring. The band is cool against her skin as she plucks it from the box and holds it up to him. "Put it on," she breathes. He fumbles only a little when he slides it onto the third finger of her left hand. The ring sits true, a perfect fit. Newt closes his eyes while leaning his forehead against hers.

"Thank you, Tina," he gasps, and her thumb finds his tears and brushes them away. "You've made me happy beyond all comprehension." Tina nods and sways forward, kissing him gently. It's still dark outside the window and they've nothing pressing planned for the day, so she leads him to her bed, where they tangle together.

Tina kisses him, and sometimes she touches him, until his heart races and his chest heaves; Newt kisses her, and sometimes he touches her until her toes curl and her joy expands to encompass them both. Dawn finds them entwined and happy, joined at the lips, talking occasionally, and planning their future.

In the other room and unbeknownst to both, Queenie tunes into the pleasant hum of their thoughts and begins to plan for their wedding, a soft smile playing about her lips.


	5. Chapter 5

**_October 1930_**

They wed beneath a blue October sky.

Tina insists on a canopy and Newt can think of no reasonable objection. He ensures she has whatever is required to make her happy, despite the challenges of the unstable economy, and it's worth every cent when his bride beams at him upon her approach.

They share their vows beneath blue brocade, the precise shade of the jacket that had started it all. His hands tremble as he pushes the ring onto her finger. Pickett acts as ring bearer, and he fulfills his duty with a series of happy clicks. Newt thanks him in a murmur, luminous eyes never wavering as he swears himself to her.

Their wedding is a fusion of traditional Jewish vows, wizarding ceremony and American pomp, which somehow fits them perfectly. Newt gamely steps on a glass to end the vows, and their guests lift them onto chairs and dance them around while they hold opposing ends of a handkerchief.

They are returned breathlessly to earth to dance slowly, spinning around and around the floor as people talk, laugh and eat beside them. They hold each other close to the end, and the day closes with them being seen off on a tide of rice and well-wishes.

Their honeymoon is a short affair, three days in a hotel in New York. They don't make love, their wedding night—Tina nerves are frayed and Newt senses the tension she carries. Instead, they spend the evening comfortably tangled, touching, teasing, pleasing, sipping champagne and making plans for their new life together.

Newt fetches her breakfast in the morning, and feeds her strawberries dipped in chocolate at noon, and rubs her back, her shoulders, her arms in the evening.

Tina welcomes the secret parts of him into herself that night, and later she thinks that, in the long and storied history of humanity, the expression of love has never been so pure, and no woman has ever felt so _wanted._

They return to their apartment to discover that little has changed. She stumbles over her new signature and laughs with every magical correction. He forgets about his new, simple ring, and she sees his surprise every time it clinks against his glass or the doorknob. They cook, they clean, they revise and take notes—they fall into sweet domesticity. At night, he sometimes tucks her into sleep and sometimes tucks himself _into_ her, and every act of intimacy brings them closer and closer still until she can no longer discern where she ends and he begins.

Seven weeks into their marriage, when the season has tipped over to winter, she hears the front door open and close from down in the case, and before long he's standing beside her. His smile splits his face in two, as it always does, and his eyes shine at her, green-gold and joyous. There's a fine parchment bundle in his hands, two steamer tickets poking out.

"How does Eastern Europe sound?" Newt asks without preamble. Tina sets aside a beaker to hide the shaking in her hands. She reaches out to take his wrist and he captures her fingers. He's wonderfully earnest as he awaits her response, and Tina can't contain her smile.

"Sounds good, Mr. Scamander," she declares, and he firms his smile. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and Tina is sure she not imagining the moisture there. She reaches up to brush it away and he presses his cheek into her hand, making a content noise in the back of his throat. He sets down the envelope to embrace her entirely, speaking softly into her hair.

"Then, Mrs. Scamander, I suggest you pack a bag. We have a ship to catch."

* * *

 **Author's note** : You can find me on Tumblr (username: katiehavok) if that's your thing. I would recommend seeking me out there—it's the best place to find me if you wish to keep track of my works, and I _always_ accept prompts and requests for Newt/Tina and Newt/Queenie. Thanks, as always, to Kemara for beta-reading and general encouragements.


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